


Once Upon A Tubbo

by Voortman



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Fantasy, Flashbacks, Flowers, Fluff, Gen, Hybrids, I Love Toby Smith | Tubbo, Kidnapping, Language of Flowers, Magic, Plants, Potions, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, so much flowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voortman/pseuds/Voortman
Summary: Where magic is the norm, L'Manberg is an actual kingdom, and Tubbo charms friends and foes alike.
Relationships: GeorgeNotFound & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Everyone, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 86
Kudos: 728





	1. Healing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One last Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625328) by [A_C_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_C_0/pseuds/A_C_0). 



> If you have any suggestions, just leave them in the comments! I make up the story as I write so excuse any plot mistakes.

The sun was setting, and the clouds were gathering, casting a gloomy shade over the land of L’Manberg. Tubbo looked up at the sky from where he was planting pumpkin seeds on his farm and quickly got back to work. 

_I need to finish this as soon as possible before it rains._ The brunette cast a spell of protection over the newly planted seeds. _Grow safely, little ones._

Thunder boomed in the distance, and a flash of lighting temporarily blinded his eyes. Hastily, he picked up his basket filled with vegetables and ran as fast as he could to the safety of his home. 

Then, he paused.

A man is bleeding on his doorstep. 

He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sure of what he’s seeing.

_A man is bleeding on his doorstep._

He could hear the drumming of the rain grow louder as it drew nearer, and without giving it a second thought, he stepped over the bleeding body to open his front door and dragged the unconscious man inside. 

**____________________**

Well, it was easier said than done. The man was _heavy_ with his several gold accessories. The skull-shaped belt on his waist; large gauntlets on his hands; boots that extended to his knees; and a black cloak that had skulls embedded on its shoulder pads. 

_He’s clearly going for a theme here,_ Tubbo mused.

He had half a mind to think about taking the man’s clothes off first, but the boy — whose only wardrobe consists of the same earth green robes and baggy pants of a lighter shade — had no idea how to do so without accidentally hurting the man more. 

The other half of his mind returned, reminding him that he could make use of his plants. 

Tubbo slapped his forehead at his stupidity, “how could I forget?!”

With a wave of his hand, the stems from the potted plants hanging from his ceiling elongated until it wrapped around the skulls on the man’s shoulders, and together, they pulled. 

“C’mon! Move!” Tubbo grunted from the amount of effort he’s exerting — Tommy did use to say that he’ll regret not training with him one day — when abruptly, the body budged so that it was now laying on the polished wood of his floor. The blood left a nasty trail in its wake.

With a flick of his wrist, the plants curled back in itself, shutting the door while it was at it. 

“Right,” Tubbo huffed tiredly, “let’s see what’s wrong with you.”

**____________________**

There were a lot of things wrong with this man.

Tubbo had helped his fair share of injured travelers, all who came across his cottage by accident, and he provided them the assistance he could by healing their stab wounds, broken ribs, and other ailments. Then, he’d send them off with food and other supplies and wished them a safer trip than their previous one. 

Sometimes, when he felt like it, he’d step out to the city and provide help for anyone he came across on the street. Though most of the time all he had to do was heal a few bruises, hangovers, and, on one unique occasion, change the color of a man’s skin back to normal.

The bleeding man on his floor was another distinct case.

First of all, he was barely breathing. Second of all, his hands were limp and cold. Third of all, or perhaps most of all, there was a huge, gaping wound on his stomach. It was clearly the work of a sword because the wound was shaped like one, lining from under the man’s supposed diaphragm to his gold belt buckle. He hovered his hands over the wound and immediately snapped back, stunned from the remaining magical residue. Whoever stabbed the man aimed to kill, and the man was definitely close to death. 

But Tubbo has never left someone to die, especially when he had the power to save them, so he gulped, sent a silent prayer to his god, placed his hands over the injury, and got to work. 

**____________________**

Tubbo doesn’t know how long he’s spent murmuring different healing incantations all while his hands were glowing by the palms, but his throat was dry and his whole arm was trembling from exhaustion, so it must’ve been a few hours already. Distantly, he could hear his dog — _Tom_ — bark in concern, but he was too out of it to give it much thought. 

Healing usually left him in a trance, and the longer he healed, the more he tuned out his surroundings. Tom was usually there to help him snap out of it, but the severe wound he was healing at the moment required his utmost attention.

So when the man he was tending to abruptly opened his eyes, pinned him on the wall and held a knife to his throat, it took Tubbo a couple of minutes before he could register what was going on. 

“Where am I?” 

The man’s voice was hoarse. _He needs water,_ Tubbo thought.

“I asked you a question.”

He felt the blade digging into his skin, but he was too dazed to do anything about it.

“Answer me.” He heard an animalistic growl. “Shut up you, mutt— Hey! Shit— Wait, what? Is that a—”

A thud. 

Then, silence. 

_He’s healed_ — Tubbo slid down the wall and curled himself into a ball on the floor — _thank god._

He promptly fell asleep. 

**____________________**

The first thing Tubbo saw when he opened his eyes was another pair of pitch-black ones boring into his own. Frankly, it was unnerving, but it would take more than that to faze him. 

“Hello,” Tubbo greeted cheerfully. 

The man raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “hello.” 

“I see you’re perfectly fine now.” Boldly, Tubbo reached out to the man and placed his hands flat on where the wound used to be. Now, only a scar remained, which was expected. “That’s great.”

“It sure is.” The eyebrow was still lifted. “I was pretty sure no one could heal a wound like that.” 

“I get that a lot,” Tubbo shrugged it off dismissively, but the scrutinizing look on the man’s eyes remained.

“In fact, it healed so well it’s almost suspicious.”

Tom snarled. 

” _Hush_ , Tom. You don’t need to be all grumpy.” Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Tom’s usually really friendly, I have no idea why he’s acting like this. Come here.” He pushed himself up so he was sitting with his back to the wall, and his face was immediately abused by Tom’s wet tongue. 

“Tom! That’s disgusting!” Tom wagged his tail excitedly. “Okay, I get it. I worried you, didn’t I? Sorry. It won’t happen again next time bud.” 

Tom huffed, as if calling on Tubbo’s bullshit, but the boy just laughed merrily. 

A cough interrupted the reunion. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man apologized like it was painful for him to do so, “but can you introduce me to your… dog?” He asked, carefully avoiding the dog’s eyes.

“I’d gladly do that,” Tubbo stood up, feeling uncomfortable being down on the floor while his guest was on his feet, “but may I ask for your name first?”

There was a long pause before the other man replied. “J,” he finally said.

“J? Like the letter J?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay, Mr. J, meet Tom. Tom, meet Mr. J. He’s the guy I healed last night — you were there so you would know who he is. There’s no need for introductions, really.”

The man’s — sorry — Mr. J’s eyes went wide as if this whole situation was bizarre to him. 

_Maybe he’s going into shock?_ Tubbo thought worriedly.

“You do know that isn’t a dog, right?” Mr. J blurted out like he’s been holding himself back from saying it this whole time. “That’s the rare wo—” 

Tom growled.

Mr. J flinched and snapped his mouth shut. “Right. I see how it is.” 

Tubbo observed the exchange curiously, but he didn’t push. He had a feeling nothing would come out of it. 

“I’m Tubbo, by the way.” He held out his hand for a long-overdue handshake. “Nice to meet you, despite everything.”  
  
The man stepped forward and shook his hand firmly, “nice to meet you, Tubbo.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay for the night, Mr. J?” Tubbo asked, going through the standard set of questions he normally asks his patients. 

The other man looked at the younger suspiciously. “No.”

“Any friends or family waiting for you out there?” He turned around to look through his shelves filled with herbs and potions. 

“How is this any of your business?” Mr. J asked impolitely. “What’s in it to you?”

“You can stay here for tonight if you’re in no rush.” Tubbo held a potion up against the light of his lamp, trying to discern if what he was holding was poisonous or not. “In fact, you can stay here for as long as you want until you find a safer place to go to. I have guest rooms in the basement specifically for situations like these” 

Mr. J stayed silent. Tubbo yelled in triumph as he found the bottle he was looking for.

He heard a deep sigh of resignation. “Bring me to it then. I’m tired as fuck right now.”

**____________________**

The next morning came.

“Pancakes?” Tubbo asked. 

“Pancakes?” Mr. J returned.

“Have you never had pancakes before? They’re like these round, flat cakes—”

“I know what pancakes are.” 

“That’s good. Caramel or strawberry syrup?”

A beat.

“Strawberry.”

“I’m on it.”

**____________________**

“I think you need a change of clothes, Mr. J. No offense to your current outfit! It’s beautiful, really. I just thought you’d be more comfortable wearing these.” Tubbo held out a pile of carefully folded garments. 

“A suit?” Mr. J took it, looking at each article of clothing. The white dress shirt, black tuxedo jacket, black trousers, and a blazing red tie. “Why a suit?”

“I run out of all the casual ones,” Tubbo sheepishly said, “so you’d have to settle for a suit for now. Is it alright?”

The older man tested the weight of it in his hands. “It’s perfect.”

**____________________**

If you had asked Mr. J what happened all the days after, he would have said it all felt like one long and absurd dream. 

**____________________**

“What is that?”

“This? This is Johnny, a white lion.”

“You named a white lion, Johnny?” Mr. J had his mouth wide open in shock, “How the fuck did you manage to find one?”

“It wasn’t that difficult, he likes coming by to have some of my choco-chip cookies.” 

“Choco-chip cookies.” Mr. J deadpanned.

“Would you like to try some?”

The older man massaged his eyebrows as if trying to lessen an incoming headache.

“Sure, why the hell not?”

**____________________**

“What do you want me to do with your old clothes, Mr. J?”

“You can—” The man audibly gulped. “—you can throw them away.”

“Are you sure? They have really lovely designs on them, it’d be a shame to never let it be used again.”

Mr. J closed his eyes. “I’m sure.”

**____________________**

“You can control plants and shit, right? Why don’t you just plant them all, you know, magically?”

“There would be no love without labor.”

“Oh yeah? Is that how these flowers grow?” Mr. J pressed the shovel to the ground, digging the dirt out. “With love, hope, and all that nice shit?”

“Yup,” Tubbo confirmed, “and bees.”

“Right, can’t forget about the bees.”

**____________________**

“Have you been living here alone this whole time?”

“I have Tom and all my plants to keep me company,” Tubbo replied. 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Mr. J frowned. “How about human company? Do you not have a family?”

“I used to.” 

“Oh,” the older froze from where he was washing dishes, “what happened to them?”

“They left a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Mr. J said again, “mine did too.”

**____________________**

“Now,” Mr. J flipped a page through _How Bees Came to Bee_ , “can you tell me why you helped me back then?” 

Tubbo tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean, why?”

“Oh, you know,” the elder snapped the book shut. “I was a dying man, yet you healed me until you collapsed from exhaustion. Then, you fed me, gave me a place to stay, and took me in even when I haven’t done anything to deserve such kindness.” He choked at the end, overcome by emotion. 

“When it comes to saving lives, Mr. J, I never discriminate.” Tubbo took a seat on his sofa, patting the spot beside him. The cushion sank as the taller man sat beside the boy, their thighs touching.

“What would you do if a stranger came asking for help, only to turn out to be a mass murderer? What then?” Mr. J continued relentlessly, not looking at Tubbo in the eye.

“I’ve never thought about that,” Tubbo said honestly, “I have no idea what I would do, but I do believe I’m a good judge of character, Mr. J, so believe me when I say that you are a kind person.” The younger held out his hand, providing the option of comfort in case Mr. J needed it. 

“I have seen kindness in the way you took care of my plants, and I have seen tenderness in the way you pet the animals that come by. They don’t run away from your touch, and instead, they welcome it.” Tubbo said slowly, trying to make sure the other man was listening to his word for word. “Even if I am unsure of myself, I am sure of this, at least.” 

It was silent.

“You sure sound like an old man sometimes. Geez, what are they feeding kids these days?” The man laughed and threaded his fingers through Tubbo’s own. 

“I eat a lot of vegetables if that helps.” The boy smiled cheekily. 

He never brought up the tears streaming down the other man’s face.

**____________________**

“I have no idea what you’ve got against Tom, he’s a really nice dog if you got to know him more.”

“It may or may not have been because I threatened you with a knife. Then your dog smashed my head on the ground.”

“Tom did what?! When?!” 

“I was just kidding!” Mr. J laughed nervously, glancing at Tom’s bare teeth. “You don’t remember anything?”

“No? I must have been in one of those healing trances again.”

“That’s good.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Nothing.”

**____________________**

“I never did thank you.”

“Thank me for what?”

“For everything, idiot.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Tubbo said. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“No,” dark eyes stared into his bright green ones, “they wouldn’t have. Trust me, I know.” The older man knelt on one knee, placing his hand on his chest. Tubbo wanted to protest and tell the man that this was unnecessary, but he could tell how much this meant to him, so he kept quiet.

“Thank you, Tubbo, for saving my life and for all the generosity you have shown in between.” Mr. J lifted his bowed head. “The world would be a nicer place if it was filled by people like you.”

**____________________**

Tubbo had a sixth sense for knowing when someone was going to leave.

As the sun rose on the thirtieth day since he discovered Mr. J bleeding on his doorstep, he knew it was time.

Quietly, he grabbed a wooden bento box from the top shelf of his kitchen and made a meal big enough to last for three days. He filled up a canteen with water and grabbed a knapsack to hold it all.

Before he could forget, he tucked a small note into the now repaired clothes Mr. J first came in with; the tear on the cloak sewn together, the blood washed away, and the gold skulls shined to the fullest. 

_It’s a good thing I fixed it on time,_ Tubbo thought. _I can tell that this is too important for him to let go of._

He heard a faint creak on the floor. Mr. J was finally awake.

Tubbo hurried to his room, not wanting to be seen. If the man chose to leave without bidding Tubbo farewell, then he would respect that decision. 

Still, he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt just a little.

**____________________**

_Have a safe trip, Mr. J :D I’ll always be right here whenever you need me._

_Your friend, Tubbo <3_

**____________________**

Mr. J folded the note with a smile, hid it carefully in his pocket, took one last look at the small cottage that had become his home, and headed off towards the city of L’Manberg.


	2. Celebrating

Tubbo tried to remember when Tom’s birthday was. 

He met the dog when he was already fully grown, so all chances of finding out his _real_ birth date were out the window. What he could do was celebrate the day he first met the dog instead. It was sort of criminal that he never held a celebration for the dog yet; _everyone_ should be appreciated on their birthday, after all. 

The problem is this: Tubbo isn’t sure when he first met Tom. He could remember _how,_ but never _when_.

It was on the back of his mind, but no matter how much he racked his brain thinking about it, nothing came up. 

Speaking of said dog, Tom is currently padding his muddy paws into the house, leaving paw-prints all over the floor. 

Tubbo sighed, “what did I say about barging in without cleaning yourself first?” 

Tom whimpered, his pointy ears folding in itself. 

“Fine, I’ll let you go this time.” Tom perked up almost immediately — he should have known the dog was faking — and headed straight to the kitchen, nudging a glass jar filled with bourbon biscuits on the counter.

“I spoil you too much,” Tubbo rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 

He reached for the biscuits. “Would you happen to know when we first met?” The dog didn’t pay him any mind, too busy devouring the treats. “I guess not.”  
  


**____________________**

_“You’re always welcome inside,” Tubbo said, not looking up from where he was watering his plants._

_The unknown creature did not respond._

_“I see you watching from afar every day. There’s no point hiding anymore.”_

_Tubbo started doubting himself; maybe he was mistaken?_

_“I have biscuits?”_

_The bushes rustled noisily._

_It was the start of a wonderful friendship._

**____________________**

The thing about Tom is that he isn’t exactly Tubbo’s dog, per se. He just comes to his house a lot. Actually, a lot of animals pass by his house a lot, but Tom’s visits were so frequent and consistent that he became a constant fixture. Plus, out of all the animals, Tom stood out the most because Tom was one _weird_ dog.

Tubbo had nothing else left to do, so he grabbed a piece of paper from his study table and made a list of all his observations:

  1. Tom always shows up on the same night once a week. 
  2. Tom hates raw meat. — What kind of dog hates raw meat?
  3. Tom really likes bourbon biscuits. — Tubbo thought twice about writing this down because a lot of the strays loved his pastries, but none of them had a _preference_. Seriously, he could have a table full of sweets and the dog would look for the bourbons first.
  4. Tom is huge for a dog.
  5. Tom has a really expressive face for a dog.
  6. Tom’s eyes looked more human than animal.
  7. Tom often understood everything he talked about.



He reviewed the list, changing a few words before he was completely satisfied with it. In a world full of magic, you would have thought that a strangely smart dog would be nothing of concern, but Tubbo’s gut told him otherwise. He felt like he was missing something important, he just couldn't figure out what.

 _Maybe some things are that simple,_ Tubbo thought dismissively. _Maybe Tom really is just one weird dog._

He opened a random drawer and placed the list inside, never to be seen again. 

**____________________**

_“Do you have a name?” Tubbo asked as he knelt next to the dog on the animal’s fourth visit. Predictably, the canine didn’t reply._

_“I can’t just keep referring to you as ‘dog’ in my head. You need a name.” He bit his lip in thought. He had an idea, but he wasn’t too sure about it._

_“He’s going to kill me when he finds out, but I just miss him a lot.” The dog nuzzled his shoulder as if encouraging him to continue._

_“His name is Tommy, he’s a good man. I was thinking of naming you after him,” he ruffled the dog’s head in return. “Tommy wanted to become a knight. It’s all he ever talked about. He used to run to town square whenever word got out that the heroes were returning.” Tubbo’s eyes glazed over, reliving his childhood memories._

_“I used to pretend to be a damsel in distress just so he could be a knight in shining armor,” the brunette laughed. “He was a scrawny kid, we both were, and our families weren’t rich, but his unwavering determination made me believe that anything was possible.” Even if their circumstances didn't make it easy, is what Tubbo didn't say._

_“It was only a matter of time before we separated ways,” he continued matter-of-factly. “I just hope he’s doing well out there, saving lives and catching the hearts of many women.”_

_The cold wind blew against his skin._

_“Tom,” he decided. “I’ll call you Tom from now on.”_

**____________________**

“I swear we met around winter,” Tubbo said the moment he heard the door to his house creak open. “I remember it being cold.”

Tom shook his body to get rid of the rainwater. 

“Or was it autumn? Perhaps between the two seasons?” The brunette continued, unbothered by the lack of response. “How about we just celebrate next week? I don’t want to delay your birthday any longer.”

Tom barked in response.

“I better start planning then.” Tubbo continued to stir the pot of mushroom soup he was heating. “Are you staying here for dinner?”

An unfamiliar voice chimed in before the dog could respond. “Hello? Is anybody home?”

Tubbo turned off the stove, dusting off his hands on his apron. 

“Just give me a second, bud. I’ve got someone to help out first.” 

**____________________**

_Tubbo woke up to Tom’s snout nudging his cheek._

_He placed an arm over his eyes, breathing heavily because of the nightmare he just had. Cold sweat drenched his shirt, and a single tear slid down his cheek._

It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those, _he thought._

 _Tom whined worriedly at his side before climbing onto the bed with him._

_“You’re going to get fur all over the sheets,” Tubbo protested weakly, already moving to give Tom space. He sighed in relief as he pressed into the warmth of the hound’s coat._

_“I just had a bad dream,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “and it was about my parents. It’s always about my parents.”_

_Tubbo let out a heart-wrenching sob, clutching the blanket tightly and wanting to get rid of the pain in his chest. “Why did they leave me alone?” He tried to muffle his cries and suppress his impending headache by burying his head into the pillow, but to no avail._

_It took one painful hour before he could calm himself down._

_"You’re the only one I’ve got now, bud.” The boy giggled madly, realizing how lonely and pathetic that sounded. “Please don’t leave me behind as well.”_

**____________________**

Tubbo set up the coffee table by filling it with Tom’s favorite food — bourbon biscuits and medium-rare steak — and others he thought would be fit for the occasion — a cake and pumpkin pie. It had been exactly one week since he last met Tom, which meant that today they'd be celebrating Tom's birthday. 

“Anytime now,” he looked out his window, looking for any sign of life, but instead of seeing the familiar shape of the canine, he saw the silhouette of a human figure approaching in the distance. 

Tubbo unlocked his front door and waved to get the person’s attention. “Hello! Do you need any help?” 

He blinked, and the person — man — suddenly stood inches away from him. Tubbo stumbled back in surprise. _That was quick,_ he thought.

He looked up at the taller man whose face he could not see because of the grotesque purple mask covering a large portion of it. The only thing visible was one bright red eye.

“I need directions.” The man said. 

All of the alarms in Tubbo’s head were going off, telling him to run away, but he fought the urge to do so. It would be rude to leave the man hanging. “Where do you need to go?” 

The man raised a gloved hand. _Run, run, run—_

“Straight to hell, buddy.”

**____________________**

“You’re going to be caught one of these days.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry, Wilbur.”

“Of course, I’ll worry,” the older man rolled his eyes, “you know what would happen if someone finds out?”

“Yeah, yeah, you can stop yapping now,” Tommy grumbled. 

Wilbur grew more frustrated with how lightly the younger was treating the whole situation. “You do know that the only reason you’re getting away with this is because you have me and Niki to back you up.” 

“I know, Wilbur. I’m not stupid!” The blonde raised his voice.

“Don’t shout! You’re going to wake the whole unit up!” 

“Well, you should stop shouting as well!”

“You stop first!”

“Real mature, Wilbur.”

“I’ll have you know—” 

They reflexively hid behind a corner at the first sound of footsteps, holding their breaths. The patrol guards were their worst enemy at times like these. 

They exhaled the moment the footsteps faded away. 

“Where do you even go every week? Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.” Wilbur whispered aggressively, waiting for Tommy to scowl and rise to the bait. 

“No,” the younger didn’t, to Wilbur’s surprise.

Instead, he smiled ruefully. “Just checking up on a friend.”

“A friend?” Wilbur scoffed. He was unnerved by the uncharacteristic expression on his ward’s face. “You go out every night just for a _friend_? I don’t believe you.”

“Look, if you want me to be back early, let me leave early. I’m not wasting my time talking to you.” 

“Fine.” Wilbur unwillingly agreed. “No later than midnight, okay?” 

“Alright, bitch.”

“What did you just—”

Tommy left before Will could finish, taking off faster than normal.

He had a bad feeling about tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if you guys noticed, but a part in this chapter was heavily influenced by a really funny clip from Tubbo's "Proximity Voice Among Us" stream :O


	3. Kidnapping

Perhaps it was the result of being a hybrid, but Tommy’s instincts never failed him. He can sense danger from miles away, and he was great at guessing people’s emotions and intentions. It was how he managed to survive months homeless and alone, but that was a story for another time.

The current situation was that Tommy had a really bad feeling about tonight; a feeling that grew stronger the closer he got to the borders of the west forest, where Tubbo’s cottage was.

 _Please be safe,_ the blonde pleaded. _Please tell me you’re okay, and I’m wrong for once._

He found himself repeating the two sentences in his head as he ran abnormally fast for a human, passing by several trees. A few hanging branches that were in the way left cuts on his face in the process. He smelled the familiar scent of sweet honey in the distance, a fragrance that he’d always associated with his best friend.

_Please. Please. Please._

He now stood breathless on Tubbo’s doorstep, both hands clutching the door frame. In his state of panic, he forgot that he needed to shift, but it was too late now. Tommy’s eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of the other boy.

“Tubbo?” 

He stepped carefully in the house, the hairs on his skin standing straight. His eyes filtered across the room before landing on the coffee table where the pumpkin pie was still steaming hot, and his favorite bourbon biscuits were laid meticulously on a plate. He had forgotten about the whole birthday thing, but the boy clearly didn’t.

 _It’s like he had never left_ , Tommy thought, but his instincts told him otherwise.

Tubbo was kidnapped. 

**____________________**

Tubbo woke up to complete darkness and a severe migraine. He wasn’t even sure if his eyes were open because all he could see was pitch-black, which was disconcerting. He moved to stand up, only to be held back by the ropes tied around his wrist and ankles. 

It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening.

“You’re awake.”

A guttural voice surprised him. He tried to pinpoint the voice through the dark, but it bounced off the walls, creating an eerie echo that only served to amplify his headache more.

“Look, I’ll let you off lightly as long as you answer my questions.”

Tubbo could not understand a word the man was saying; his head hurt too much. 

The man sighed. “Drink,” he said as he held a cup of something to Tubbo’s lips. The boy shuddered at the sudden cold of the glass. 

_Milk,_ Tubbo realized, _a remedy for potions._ He felt himself settle down, no longer feeling delirious.

“You’re luckier than most,” the man’s deep voice was clearer now. “I went easy on you.”

“You call this going easy?” Tubbo said, his energy coming back to him.

“You should have seen what I did to the last person I kidnapped.”

The boy did not share in his kidnapper’s enthusiasm.

“Why am I here?” He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable.

“You came into contact with someone I’m after.”

Tubbo has had a lot of people over to his home, so the possibility of him coming into contact with someone shady was not impossible. Mr. J did warn him of the dangers of what he’s doing once, and now he’s facing those very consequences. He could already hear the old man saying _I told you so_ in his head. 

“Who?”

“I’m glad you’re being compliant. It makes things easy.” Tubbo could hear the smile in the stranger’s voice. “I’m looking for a guy named Schlatt.” 

**____________________**

Tommy wasn’t panicking. 

If he was, then he wasn’t showing it. If there was anything he learned from years of living in the city and studying in the Knight Academy, it was that there was never any time for despair, so he got to work.

He looked for any clues that could lead him to Tubbo’s whereabouts, searching the living room, basement, kitchen, and dining area, but there were no traces left behind. Whoever did this to Tubbo knew what he was doing. It was either that or Tubbo’s natural inclination to help people stabbed him in the back. Both seemed plausible.

However, what the kidnapper didn’t take into consideration was Tommy’s incredible sense of smell, which was already great on its own but was even better once he shifted. The boy’s back slowly crouched as his whole body warped into something more animal — a wolf with golden fur. 

_I’m coming for you, Tubbo._

**____________________**

“Schlatt?” Tubbo tried to match a face to the name but came up empty. “I haven’t come across anyone named Schlatt so far. If I did, it was probably a long time ago.”

“That’s bullshit,” the voice practically growled back at him. “I traced his presence, and it led straight to your house. He had just been to your house recently, his aura is all over the place, so don’t you dare lie and tell me where he went.”

The severity of the situation finally dawned on Tubbo. His hands and feet bound to a chair, he could not see, and he could not get a grip of any nearby plant life to help him attack. He was completely powerless against his kidnapper, and even if he tried to scream for help, no one could hear him.

Tubbo gulped, his voice rising by an octave, “I’m not lying. I haven’t met anyone named Schlatt. Maybe you got misled?”

“My life is tied to his,” the man said vaguely. “I would not make that mistake.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The man did not grace his question with an answer, but Tubbo was used to talking to socially inept people; this was just a unique circumstance, where he was not a healer talking to his patient, but a hostage talking to his kidnapper. Honestly, he shouldn’t even be trying to push the man in the first place, but he was panicking. When he panicked, he liked being meddlesome.

“What did Schlatt do to you?”

“I’m supposed to be asking the questions here.”

“I know, but maybe I’d be more inclined to help you?” Tubbo winced as he said this, realizing how that made him sound like he knew something when he didn’t. “Not that I know anything!” The boy groaned inwardly; he probably sounded suspicious right now.

Surprisingly, the man chuckled, deep and pleasant. “You have a very expressive face.”

“Thank you?” Tubbo did not know his kidnapper could see him in the dark, but it made a lot more sense now that he thought about it. 

“All the signs point to you, but for some reason, I trust your word,” the man said. “Unless you’re very good at lying or you’ve got some weird magic shit going on.” 

“No! No,” The boy laughed shakily. “I suck at lying, and I specialize in plants more.”

“Plants?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can you revive dead ones?”

“Yes?”

The man hummed in contemplation. “Why’d you have to be so young anyway? I thought you were working with Schlatt, but now I just feel guilty about this whole thing,” he sighed. “Alright, kid. I’ll be turning on the lights now.”

 _Wait, what’s happening? Is he letting me go? What?_ Tubbo heard the echo of footsteps before he flinched, his eyes blinded by the sudden brightness from the light. _What is going on?_

“I’ll be untying the rope now.” The man said, taking him through the process. “I’m honestly sorry about this whole thing. Life is just not going well for me right now. Sykkuno would kill me if he found out. Hah, _kill_ me. That’s funny.” 

Tubbo was still trying to adjust his eyes to the light, but he took note of the unfamiliar name in his head. He felt his bound hands jostle as the man released him. 

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” the brunette admitted.

His kidnapper now stood in front of him — Tubbo had to squint to see the man clearly — and knelt on one knee. His hands busied itself by undoing the knot of rope on his ankles.

“I just thought you were conspiring with Schlatt. I know he’s been to your house, but I also know that you’re not lying to me, which is conflicting.” 

_He’s really pale,_ Tubbo thought, seeing the man properly this time.

“Maybe he just passed by?” 

“No, he was staying in your house for longer than that.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out.”

The man, who had a purple mask that covered everything except for one eye, raised a questionable eyebrow. “I just kidnapped you, and you’re apologizing?”

“Sorry?”

The man laughed again. His eyes crinkled at the edges. “I made a mistake, huh,” hands ruffled his hair, “you look like you won’t even hurt a fly.” 

**____________________**

Tommy followed the faint scent of honey, running on his four legs. 

_Don’t worry, Tubbo,_ he thought. _I’m on my way._

**____________________**

They were both upstairs now in what seemed to be an abandoned house in the woods. If Tubbo squints, he could see the lights of the city at night from here, but the city was not that important; the plant life surrounding him was. He muttered a quiet greeting to the vegetation, and he felt the hum in return. 

“Corpse.”

“What?”

“My name,” the man said amusedly. “You?”

“Tubbo. Your name is Corpse?”

“It’s very fitting for someone like me.” 

“Someone like you?”

The boy sat down on the chair Corpse pulled out for him in the dining area, his kidnapper sitting directly opposite. They sat in silence while Tubbo patiently waited for the man to answer.

“I’m dead. Well, I used to be until Schlatt revived me.”

“So a literal corpse then,” Tubbo jested. 

“I’ve made that joke too much already. I’m tired of it.” 

_That’s a lie_ , Tubbo thought. He could hear the smile in Corpse’s voice, but he chose to get back to the story. 

“I don’t get why you’re going after him just for that, though. Isn’t being alive again a good thing?”

Corpse leaned back on his in thought, trying to figure out how to relay his sentiment. “How old are you, Tubbo?”

“Me? I’m fifteen.”

“I guess you’re too young to understand,” the older man chuckled. “You reach a certain point in life where you feel like you’ve done enough, and you can move on peacefully,” he bowed his head. “For me, I died next to my best friend.”

 _“_ Sykkuno,” Tubbo interrupted, remembering the name from earlier. “Was his name Sykkuno?”

Corpse’s head snapped up, and Tubbo could see his Adam's apple bob beneath the cloth of his turtleneck. “It was.”

It was silent as Tubbo took in this information. _Schlatt must be a necromancer,_ he guessed. Only necromancers were able to pull off a feat such as this, and they were few in this world. 

He tried to put himself in the man’s shoes. Living a fulfilling life and dying peacefully next to his best friend — _Tommy,_ his brain supplied painfully — only to be brought back to life without them, unable to die. Just the thought of it all made him depressed, and if he were Corpse, he would have gone crazy. The whole kidnapping thing was understandable now.

The heart was always the hardest to heal, especially a broken one, so Tubbo did the only thing he could do. Carefully, the boy reached out for the older man, taking hold of one of his pale, veiny hands. 

“Can you tell me more about him?”

Corpse’s visible eye widened. Then, he pressed back on the hands that were smaller and warmer than his. It took him a few moments before he replied.

“I’d love to.”

**____________________**

Tommy’s imagination was going wild with the worst-case scenarios. 

Tubbo already being dead, for one, or Tubbo being tortured to death, for another. Basically, it all just rounded up to death and despair. 

However, what he did not expect was _this_.

The said boy was crouching beside a very intimidating figure in black leather pants, black boots, a black long-sleeved turtleneck, and a skull-like mask; this is where Tommy comes in to save the other boy from danger, but his instincts weren’t telling him there was any. In fact, Tubbo was _laughing_ beside the taller man, his posture completely relaxed and carefree. 

_Is he under the influence?_ Tommy thought horrifically. _Is this what they call Stockholm Syndrome?_

He held himself back from charging in and observed the situation from afar. At the very least, they were outside, and Tubbo wasn’t tied up by anything. If the man even tried to harm a single hair on the brunette’s skin, Tommy would rip him apart with his teeth.

He listened in on their conversation. 

“This is where Sykkuno and I were buried. I’ve been living here for a few months since then.” The stranger gestured to the human-sized hole in the ground and cradled a withered plant on the grave next to it. “Sykkuno used to love having this leaf on his head. I guess my friends thought it was a good idea to bury it on the ground on top of him.”

A hush fell on the two. Tommy did not understand a single thing the man said. 

“You said you specialized in plants, Tubbo?”

“What do you need me to do Mr. Corpse?” 

_Tubbo? Mr. Corpse? They're on a first-name basis?_

“Could you—” The taller man’s hands were shaking. “Could you bring it back to life?”

Tubbo replied by placing his hands flat on the soil on the ground. His hands glowed faintly — reviving a plant so small only required minimal energy — and the plant abruptly stood upright, turning from its color of dull gray to a vibrant green. On the ground surrounding the abandoned house, a variety of flowers and grass grew, coloring the whole land. It became a beautiful garden now, every square meter filled with a bundle of plant life. Roses, lilacs, lilies, orchids, tulips, and more. It was a gold mine of plants, and the moonlight that shone upon it made the sight more breathtaking.

“I think I went overboard,” Tubbo smiled sheepishly. When he sneezed, daisies appeared out of nowhere above his head. “Woah, I didn’t mean to do that.”

The taller man froze from where was crouching, shocked at the suddenness of the whole thing. 

So used was Tommy to Tubbo’s displays of magic that he forgot just how impressive it was. The boy was gifted with a rare type of magic. Most people could only control the elements of earth, water, air, and fire, but Tubbo was granted power over _life_. Anyone who had such abilities was either respected or scorned in the city. 

“Sorry, Mr. Corpse. I’m not sure if you wanted all these plants.” 

“No! It’s fine,” the man stood, “I like it better this way.”

Tubbo stood as well, dusting off the dirt on his hands. “I’m happy that’s the case because you’d have to live with it either way.” He sneezed again, lobelias appeared this time. The taller man was visibly shaken at how easily the boy could create living things out of seemingly nowhere. 

The whole situation was sort of comical. Corpse — with his black attire, menacing figure, and hoarse voice — and Tubbo — who was shorter and wore bright clothes — standing next to each other over a field of flowers. Tommy would be laughing his ass off if he wasn’t so worried about Tubbo just a while ago. 

“Thank you,” Corpse said, descending to kneel on one knee. 

“Mr. Corpse— A simple thank you is fine, seriously.”

“Let me do this, please.” The man placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. He was the same height as the boy when he knelt. “Thank you, Tubbo, for forgiving me and for showing me kindness when I did not deserve it.” Corpse lifted his bowed head.

“The world would be a better place if it was filled by people like you.”

The brunette looked uncomfortable with the whole thing, which was the perfect time for Tommy to step in. 

He howled, calling Tubbo’s attention. The boy turned to the direction of the sound, lighting up at the sight of his dog. 

“Tom! You came for me!” 

Tommy ran into Tubbo’s outstretched arms, both of them falling into the bed of flowers. 

“Smart boy,” hands scratched his head. “Thanks for coming, buddy, but you didn’t need to worry. Mr. Corpse!” Tubbo turned to the man who was still kneeling. “Meet Tom, my dog.”

The said man narrowed his one red eye at him. “You know that’s not a dog, right?”

Tommy growled threateningly. _He may have forgiven you for what you’ve done, but I’m still keeping my eye on you,_ he thought.

Corpse raised both of his hands in surrender.

“Tom, you’re being very rude,” Tubbo huffed exasperatedly before he gasped. “I forgot that it was your birthday!” The boy groaned. “The food must be cold now, I’d have to reheat it all.”

Tommy stepped away from Tubbo’s chest so the boy could stand up. Corpse offered his hand in assistance, but Tommy snarled, letting Tubbo stand by himself. 

“He’s always like this with strangers. I’m really sorry.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” Corpse said humorously. “He’s very protective of you.” 

“Yeah,” Tubbo grumbled, “not sure where he got that from.”

At this, Corpse and Tommy shared a knowing look. 

_No one can resist Tubbo’s charm,_ Tommy nodded solemnly at the taller man, temporarily at truce with each other. _Once you fall in, you can never escape._

“Would you like to join us for dinner, Mr. Corpse?”

“Is there cake?”

“There’s more than just cake,” the boy’s eyes twinkled. “I make the best sweets, you have to try them.”

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

Needless to say, that day was one of the weirdest birthdays Tommy has ever had.


	4. Eating

Techno has been lying down at an impressive field of hyacinths for a long time. 

He arrived at the meadow when the sun was still rising in the east, but now the bright ball of light was descending on the west. Techno found himself losing track of time, too immersed in the sounds of nature. He felt at peace, which was a feeling that rarely came to him, especially in his line of work.

Frankly, he isn’t even supposed to be here. He was supposed to be charming ladies — as Prince Phil liked to call it — and gathering intel at the formal ball held in the royal palace, but here he was, in the middle of nowhere doing nothing productive. He can’t say that he regrets it, though; he’d do anything to escape the acidic smell of perfume and to avoid talking to drunk nobles. 

_I wonder how Phil does it,_ Techno thought. _I’d kill myself within the first twenty seconds._

His ear twitched as he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching and steeled himself for a possible attack. 

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” a youthful voice said. “This place is pretty deep in the forest. I’m surprised you found it.”

 _There goes my bubble of peace._ Techno sighed. _I guess I have to socialize._

“I’ve been told that I’m pretty good at directions,” he said.

“You’re in luck,” the stranger entered his line of vision, sitting down in the space directly beside him. The hybrid assessed the boy — he was certain he was a boy unless he’s got some anti-aging shit going on — who looked harmless with his toothy smile and clear green eyes. “I was just planning on having a picnic tonight. Care to join me?”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone fooled Techno with such friendliness, and he was not planning on it happening again. 

“I’ve got places to be,” he stood up with a grunt. He’d been lying down for longer than expected; his whole body ached. “No thanks, kid.”

Techno picked up his red cape — that he had folded into a cushion for his head — and blew off the pollen that had stuck to his gold crown. Then, he pointedly showed off the scabbard of his diamond sword.

 _Do you see this?_ He trained his eyes on the stranger. _I’ve cut down monsters and humans alike with this sword. Try anything, and I won’t hesitate to kill you._

The boy just looked up at him in confusion.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

Techno snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

He moved to walk away, still on alert in case the kid tried anything, and was already a couple of hundred steps in when he smelled _it_.

 _It_ being the smell of food. 

When you’re friends with the crown prince of the kingdom, food is never a problem. He could just walk up to the royal kitchen and ask for any dish he wants, and the cooks will make it for him. Any friend of the prince is a friend of the kitchen as well. 

Phil has also never failed to invite Techno to join him in banquets, balls, quests, tea time, dinners with dignitaries, and all his other adventures. In that period, he’s tried a variety of dishes from different countries and classes. He once ate a delicious piece of steak and later found out that it was meat from a _dragon_. It turns out that the man was selling the meat illegally, and they arrested the guy soon after, but that’s beside the point. 

The point was that Techno tried a lot of food in his life.

However, not one of those many dishes reminded him of home.

He attempted to make the dish once, and he also requested the dish from the royal chefs, but none of them could compare to the wave of nostalgia that washed over him just now. 

So he paused and stood still for a while, contemplating whether or not he should turn around and go back to the boy’s little picnic. There was also the chance of it being a trap, but the kid did look harmless since he had nothing on him besides the basket of food in his hand. Besides, Techno may not have full-body armor on, but he’s beaten monsters thrice the kid’s size with less. 

_I’m hungry anyway,_ Techno thought. 

He changed his path. 

**____________________**

_Techno's real name isn’t Techno, but it might as well be._

_His old name reminded him of his years in the Pit. It was a district situated near the borders of L’Manberg, and it was called the "Pit" because of the state of darkness it was always in. No one — not even the scholars of the most prestigious academy — could explain why the place was ill-lit. Not even the sun could shine light upon it, but magic was strange like that. Perhaps it was because of this that the area attracted the kinds of people that lived in it._

_Peasants, prostitutes, gang members, and anyone with a criminal background gathered in the dark of the Pit. Most people, who weren’t residents, only came by to purchase illegal materials from the Black Market, to conduct shady business out of the watch of the guards, or to look for a place to hide. They only ever come to visit because no sane man would choose to stay long in the Pit. You’d have to be in deep shit to choose to do so._

_However, some people were just unlucky enough to be born there._

_Such was Techno’s case._

**____________________**

“You’re back,” the boy said. He had already set up a checkered picnic blanket on the field and was setting down the food from his basket. “Did you change your mind?”

“Perhaps,” Techno replied vaguely. “I was just checking if I left a scroll around here somewhere. Have you seen it?”

“Nope,” the boy handed him a wooden bowl filled with mushroom stew. Techno took it and cursed himself for having manners. “I could help you look for it?”

“Nah, it wasn’t that important anyway.” Techno sipped on the stew cautiously and was impressed by the taste. It was just a simple soup, some would say it was food for peasants, but it was unexpectedly complex in flavor.

“Did your parents make this?”

“I made this myself, actually,” the boy said proudly. “How is it?”

“It’s alright.”

“Just alright? Not amazing?” The boy reached for a plate filled with bite-sized _something_. Techno wasn’t a chef, so excuse him for not knowing. “Well, you have to try my other dishes then. I won’t stop until you find one worth five stars.”

**____________________**

_He was born to an absent father and a sickly mother, but he would not trade his mother for the world. She was the kindest person he’s ever met, which was not saying much because everyone in the Pit had rotten flesh for hearts, but this held true even as he ventured outside of the dark place._

_As much as she disapproved of him working at such a young age, Techno knew that she could not provide for the two of them on her own, so as soon as he was able, he got to work. On weekends, he did manual labor for eight hours straight to receive a meager iron ingot. On weekdays, he stole from stores and wandering visitors, and he used his youthful looks to beg for food in the streets. The latter rarely earned him anything, though._ _Prejudice against hybrids runs rampant in the Pit._

_Once, he found an abandoned knife and discovered that he was a natural at combat. Some guy witnessed him training at night, and he was tipped a diamond and promised more if he killed the man in the picture._

_When he came home that night with bloody clothes and fresh cow meat — which, for them, was a luxury — his mother cried._

_Techno did not take up a similar job again._

**____________________**

“How was that one?”

“It’s good.” It reminded him of the rare delicacy a noblewoman offered to him once. She said the ingredients came from the deepest caves and oceans, and it certainly tasted that way. 

“This?”

“Okay.” It tasted a lot like the special recipe the head cook at the palace loved to make. Techno wasn’t sure how the boy was able to replicate the taste.

“Give me a second,” the brunette plunged his hand into the small basket, searching for the dish he had in mind. “Aha! This is the one.”

Then, Techno was reminded of why he returned to the boy in the first place. 

“It’s just milk, butter, potatoes, and garlic. It’s not much, but I have a good feeling that you’ll like this one.”

The boy pulled out a steaming bowl of baked potatoes and placed it on the picnic mat. Techno’s breath hitched at the sight of the familiar dish. It was identical to the one his mother used to make, but that means nothing. He has to taste it first.

Slowly, he dipped his spoon into the bowl, scooped up a generous amount, and brought it to his mouth.

 _I am not going to cry over a bowl of potatoes, goddammit._ Techno thought hysterically as he chewed. 

_This is it_. He could already imagine his mother’s warm hugs and her even warmer smile. _It’s perfect._

“Well?” The boy prompted, he was fidgeting at the lack of response. “What do you think?”

For the first time that night, Techno went for another bite.

“It’s good.” He loosened his stiff shoulders and let out a sigh. “It’s really good.”

The kid perked up at the different answer. “Yes!” He exclaimed, eyes going wide and hands punching the air with glee. 

The boy may have domesticated him with good food and great company, but— Scratch that. No buts. Techno has completely given up in trying to resist. Phil did use to say that he needed to stop being so paranoid. 

“Do you have anything else in that magic basket of yours?” 

Techno thought the boy could not look any happier, but he was wrong. The boy was practically beaming with joy now, and was he seeing things, or did the flowers around him just grow taller? 

“Prepare to be amazed.”

**____________________**

_If there was one thing that lightened up his days in the Pit, it was whenever his mother cooked. The Pit was right next to the largest potato farm in the kingdom, and so the stalls nearby usually sold the starch. Whenever Techno stole or bought food, he’d always end up with a bag full of potatoes. His mother also worked at a cow farm, so most of the time, she brings home buckets of milk and sticks of butter._

_With only those ingredients, there was not much she could do but make the same recipe every time, but Techno didn’t mind. They were fortunate enough to be eating in the first place._

_Besides, he loved his mother’s potato recipe._

**____________________**

The two were now sitting on the field beside each other. Techno’s stomach was uncomfortably full of food — he had not eaten anything the whole day, too busy being spaced out, so he ate a little more than usual — and they both ran out of things to say, so they just sat in silence.

Usually, Techno would rather die than sit quietly beside someone he just met, but this silence did not feel awkward at all. He felt comfortable, which was a feat in itself. 

“Did you know,” the boy started, “that this flower field is actually made from magic?”

Techno could understand why that is. The place felt unnatural to him for reasons he could not explain, and he trusted his instincts. However, he felt like the boy was not asking this to elicit a response, so he did not voice his thoughts out loud.

“Do you know what kind of magic it is?”

Techno hesitated, was he supposed to know the answer? “No,” he replied.

The boy turned to look at him with a sad look on his face.

“I see,” he did not explain any further. Instead, he changed the subject. “Do you know what hyacinths mean, Mister?”

“No,” Techno went along with it, “what do they mean?” 

“They usually symbolize sorrow or regret.”

“And what does this got to do with me?”

The silence returned, the boy had a very expressive face, so Techno could see him thinking about what to say.

“The first time I was here, this field was full of yellow tulips,” the boy finally said. “I met a girl who sat at the same spot you did. I later found out that she encountered this place after her heart was crushed by a man who did not love her in return.”

Techno listened attentively. It was his first look into the boy's past, after all.

“The second time, it was rhododendrons. It’s a mouthful, I know,” the boy laughed. “This time, I stumbled across a man who looked like he was running for his life. He told me of his plans of heading east, and I advised him not to. Do you know why?”

He didn’t.

“It’s because those flowers symbolize danger, and just like how the yellow tulips symbolized unrequited love, the field transformed with the visitor.” The boy paused as if waiting for him to understand. “Flowers are living beings and they speak their own language, which is one that I can understand. Sometimes, they’re a reflection of what one feels, and other times, they’re a prediction of the future.” 

Techno felt goosebumps rise on his arms and shivered as he remembered what the hyacinths surrounding him symbolized. “I don’t have any regrets,” he said. “I have no idea why the flowers are like this. It must be a mistake.”

“Magic like this does not lie, Mister.”

“You have to be naive to believe such a thing.”

“I have seen enough to know that this one does not.”

Something about the way the boy said this made Techno freeze in place. 

_What do you mean by that?_ Techno thought. _What do you mean you’ve seen enough?_

He knew that arguing was pointless. The boy knew what he was talking about, and there was nothing Techno can say against that, so he considered his options. Maybe it was the comfortable atmosphere, or perhaps it’s because the boy has been too generous and kind, that he felt like telling the kid about everything.

 _Opening up to someone I just met?_ Techno thought. _I’ve officially lost it._

However, he trusted his instincts more than anything. That side of him never failed to save him when it came to dire situations, and if it’s telling him to trust the kid, then he’ll do it. 

“Alright,” he decided. “It’s quite a long story.”

“I have time,” the boy said understandingly. 

He closed his eyes and started from the beginning.

**____________________**

_He was just finishing up with work when the feeling of dread came upon him. Techno did not bother continuing work as he dropped the shovel in his hands and ran. He could hear his boss screaming at him to get back, but he ignored it all as he headed straight home. He saw his house in the distance, but instead of smelling the familiar scent of his mother’s cooking wafting through the air, the metallic smell of blood overwhelmed him instead._

_Their door was smashed open, and their cupboards, which were already scarce with food, were emptied. It was then that Techno noticed his mother’s lifeless body on the floor, blood pooling around her. There was a knife — the very same knife he picked up on the street — in her chest with a note on the handle._

_His hands were trembling as he reached out for the piece of paper._

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life.

_It took him a few years before he finally understood the meaning of this note, and by extension, discovered his mother's murderer. The man he killed for diamonds a few months back was the head of some stupid gang, and they were infamous for returning the favor._

_For now, he just cradled his mother’s head —_ we had nothing and she was so beautiful and she did not deserve this you should have killed me instead how dare you _— and let the tears fall._

**____________________**

When Techno recalls the story of his encounter with the boy in the forest to Phil, he does not mention the way the boy cried on his behalf and how he comforted him with a hug.

He also does not mention how he forgot to ask for the boy’s name and how he tried looking for the field of flowers in hopes of meeting him again. Strangely, he could not remember where it was or how he managed to find the meadow in the first place.

Besides that, he does not miss a single detail. 

(And what he will forever keep a secret is his book full of pressed flowers with writings around it, so that the next time the boy asks him a question, he’ll be prepared.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Techno's appearance on this [art](https://twitter.com/EtceteraArt/status/1295738772550803457?s=20) by [@EtceteraArt](https://twitter.com/EtceteraArt?s=20) on Twitter :D The potato recipe I was referring to in this chapter is called [gratin dauphinois](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gratin_dauphinois) if you want to check it out.


	5. Visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is tired of dealing with everyone's bullshit.

“I _don’t_ heal people, I _don’t_ cook food for strangers, and I _don’t_ give life-changing experiences!”

“But—”

“Get _out_!”

The door slammed the door shut. 

When George moved into his little cottage in the woods, he expected peace and quiet, far from the commotion of the city. He fantasized about spending his days exploring nature with nothing but a bag and his goggles on his head. 

_This?_ He snapped the five locks of his door shut and slid the curtains by his window closed. _This is not it._

His first two weeks of living alone involved a series of bizarre occurrences. Every day without fail, at least two people would come knocking on his door, asking for help. 

At first, he saw no reason not to give the strangers food and water, but they were now getting bolder with their demands. Some asked him to heal their wounds and most asked him if they could stay in his house for the night, while others asked him for advice on their plants. The plants he could understand because he lives in the woods, but the others were just ridiculous. What made his house look like a hotel? Or a clinic? And why would they go to the middle of nowhere just for that in the first place? 

However, out of all the instances mentioned, he drew the line at people telling him their _life stories_.

 _For fucks sake_ , George’s bed sunk from his weight. _Who do they think I am? Their therapist?_

It was overwhelming having to fend off stubborn fighters, merchants, and civilians every day. George would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting more wary and anxious of each visitor as time passed by — you never know when one of them might be a murderer — so he’s been practicing the art of shutting his door to anyone he does not know nowadays.

As of the moment, he was just annoyed at the whole situation.

 _I will stab the next person that comes knocking,_ he thought vehemently as he leaned against his kitchen counter. _Maybe that will scare them away._

“Hello?” 

Speak of the devil.

George exhaled heavily. _I will not answer that door._ He stared at the said door. _I will not fucking do it._

“Is anyone home?”

_I don’t want to deal with any of this ever again._

“My name is Tubbo—”

_Fuck off._

“—and I just wanted to say hi.”

He was hesitating now, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

“I guess no one’s here. Do you sense anything, Tom?”

 _There’s someone else?_ George thought, skeptical. From what he understood from that question, the other person must have superhuman senses, so he stopped tapping and stood eerily still. 

“No? Are you sure?” 

Silence. Tom must have replied, but he couldn’t hear anything.

“I could’ve sworn I saw someone in here just a while ago.”

George wanted to bang his head against the wall. _Just leave already._

“Really?”

_Yes._

“Well, if you say so.”

 _Thank god._ He wanted to sigh in relief, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

“Should I leave the box here then? I hope no one steals it because that would just be terrible.”

 _A box?_ George thought alarmingly. _I hope it’s not something explosive._

“Shoot. I don’t have any paper on me. How are they supposed to know that this is from me?” 

_Please don’t be explosive._

“Oh well, let’s go home. I’m sure you’re hungry already.”

He heard the fallen leaves crunch as Tom and Tubbo departed. George slowly counted to ten in his head, ensuring that the two were a fair distance away, before springing to action. He hastily went through his five different locks to check out what was on his doorstep, hands fumbling as he did so.

_I’m too young to die._

George muttered a curse as he struggled with the third lock. 

_I’ve barely explored the world yet, and the fates are doing this to me already. Be nice to me for once in my life, you fuckers._

The door creaked open. George stared at the seemingly innocent green box in front of him, thinking about how to deal with the threat. He considered kicking it, but there was also the possibility of the box exploding upon contact. 

_How about I just_ — George crouched and shuffled closer to the object — _open it._

He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at what was inside just yet, and lifted the cover of the box. Almost immediately, he threw the cover out into the wild, stood up, and ran back inside the house. Running inside wasn’t a wise decision considering explosives cover a lot of ground — he should’ve run away instead — but he was still pretty worked up, so his body acted before his mind could catch up.

George counted to ten again, remembering to breathe as he did so. When nothing happened, he walked back to the box and craned his neck to take a peek at its contents.

It was a flower. In a pot.

He looked around, checking if anyone saw the embarrassing display he just put on a show. Thankfully, one of the many perks of living in the forest is that he had no neighbors, so he shoved his embarrassment down in his throat lest he started screaming in mortification. 

Instead, he took a look at what was just given to him.

It was a beautiful flower. 

A cornflower, to be exact. He remembered the name simply because of the fact that it was _blue_ , which was apparently the only color he ever got right.

George heaved a sigh, exhausted by today’s events. Mentally, he took note of the names of the people — Tubbo and Tom — who left the box for him earlier, so the next time he came across the two again, he would _not_ pretend he did not exist and thank them for the gift instead.

“Time to take you inside,” George said to the new addition of his plant life family. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

**____________________**

“He’s quite a strange one, isn’t he?”

Tubbo asked no one in particular because Tom stopped listening to him a long time ago. He was too busy pawing on his clothes and making sad noises. 

“Quit it. I still haven’t forgiven you for lying to me,” Tom whined in response. “You said there was no one there!” He whined again.

Tubbo rolled his eyes at Tom’s ridiculousness. “You’re so dramatic. We’ll go home, don’t worry. Just give me a few more minutes.” 

The brunette continued observing his new neighbor from afar. Well, calling him a neighbor was a stretch, seeing as how they lived miles away from each other, but they both had “west forest” in their address, which was more than enough.

“I think he likes it?” 

It was hard to see anything from where they were hiding, though he did see the man’s weird outburst from earlier. Tubbo doesn’t know why the man was acting like the world was ending — the box wasn’t _that_ scary to look at — but he wasn’t one to judge.

“Oh! He’s taking it inside.”

Sure enough, the man was finally picking up the gift he had for him. Tom, who he thought wasn’t paying attention, perked up at the exclamation. 

“Not sure why he didn’t just show himself earlier. I really wanted to say hi.”

He dusted off the dirt that clung to his pants from kneeling on the ground for too long. There was nothing else to look at with the man taking the box inside. Tom knew this as well because he was tugging impatiently at his shirt with his teeth.

“Alright, alright. We’re going.”

Tubbo took one last look at the cottage of his strange neighbor.

He’ll try again next week, though he doubts his neighbor wants to see him. The man's clearly got issues.

**____________________**

If only they both knew that there wouldn’t be a next time.

George’s house was burning.

The west forest was soon to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some changes to the last two lines, so if you saw the old version: No, you did not.


End file.
